


Want some more?

by shroomfairy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Kinky, M/M, Porn, Sequel, Toys, dominant Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shroomfairy/pseuds/shroomfairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean needs lessons in patience. </p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4720850">Hot 'n Cold</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want some more?

_“We are never more fully alive, more completely ourselves, or more deeply engrossed in anything, than when we are at play.”  
― Charles E. Schaefer_

 

Patience was a virtue? Screw that!  
Impatience was his second name. Not that Jean would ever admit it. (Actually, it was Pierre, his second name, but he'd rather die before ever telling anyone that!)

Be it small things, minor things, things no one else seemed to even consider a nuisance; he hated having to wait for something to happen. To watch time go by oh so slowly. It drove him crazy. Even something so ridiculous as mid-season breaks, for example. Not to mention actual season breaks, of his favourite tv shows. Cliffhangers of any kind. Annoying! Delayed sequels of long-awaited movies. The _Riddick_ franchise was, perhaps, the biggest offender here. A whole nine years lay between the second and third movie. The worst! And one better did not get him started on one of his favourite game series, _Grand Theft Auto_ , of which the most recent release had been pushed back numerous times. On that note, if not quite related, fuck Gay Tony! Dumbest DLC ever, if you asked Jean. Openly gay major character in a video game with a core demographic of young, straight men, or not! Just no. Big no! Darth Vader-esque Big No! 

Now, Jean was well aware of how idiotic it was to get his boxers in a wad over these things, but hey! First World Problems! Yes, he was a cynic. He knew he was. He embraced it, too. Well, most of the time.

But what about annoyances, however small, that did have an impact on your life? Such as stupid, random road works littering your way to university, making morning traffic even more annoying as it already was.  
Customer service hotlines telling you to please hold the fucking line, then never putting you through and, ultimately, hanging up on you while you were still stuck in the wait loop? Drove him bollocks! Wait loop? Aptly named, that.

Then there was his lovely boyfriend who was known to take his sweet time in the bathroom. Like he was doing right now, when Jean was about to keel over from hunger. _Impatient_ to see Marco, he’d passed on lunch and gone over to his place straight after classes. He hadn’t been too hungry at the time anyway. Also, the prospect of getting to have hot, steamy sex with his man whom he only got to see every other weekend, topped everything else—which was exactly what they’d done upon his arrival: fuck each other’s brains out. Twice. 

Priorities, man!

Jean would’ve been fine with making himself a sandwich, or whatever, but Marco had insisted on taking him out for dinner instead, had made reservations at a Mongolian restaurant. Fancy stuff. Jean had never tried Mongolian cuisine before, and, under different circumstances, he would’ve highly appreciated the thought, but right now he was _starving_. Hell, at this point, he would’ve been satisfied with shitty Cup Noodles.

Worse, though, than any of the above was having to wait for something that actually, truly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Such as hearing back from the places you’d applied to for a part-time job. Over the course of the past few weeks, Jean had filled out several online applications. So far, not a peep; neither good nor bad.

He was in dire need of a job, since he hadn’t been eligible for a student loan. His parents made too much money for him to be granted such.  
He had to get his driver’s licence. Public transport in Trost sucked big, hairy monkey balls, even more so in the suburbs. The last bus went around eight o’clock in the evening, and it took about forty minutes to reach the city centre on a good day. Cabs were expensive. While his parents did agree to buy him a car, the deal they’d struck with him was that he had to come up with the money for the damn driver’s licence. Not too bad a deal in and of itself, if it weren’t for the lack of jobs.

 _Why can’t we live in the States_?, he thought, disgruntled. _Would be so much cheaper to get a licence there_...

And while he was on the subject of money, Jean utterly despised how Marco always ended up paying for everything. Be it dinner, take-out, movie tickets, or some nightclub or bar plus drinks. Rich bitch or not! Now, Marco never shoved it in his face that he was loaded—plus, he was working his sexy ass off for all that money, too—nor did he play the role of a sugar daddy in their relationship. Jean merely wished things weren’t so one-sided when it came to money. It made him feel as if he was mooching off of his boyfriend, even though Marco kept trying to reassure him he was doing no such thing.

Frowning, he went to check his emails for the umpteenth time today, only to have his phone die on him. Wonderful! Of course, he’d forgotten to bring the charger, too. A common occurrence he normally couldn’t have cared less about. The laptop he had left at home, too. He never brought it with him when he stayed at Marco’s anyway. He had _better_ things to do when he was with him. _Priorities_.

“Ey, Marco! Can I use your laptop?!” 

No answer. The faint rushing of water indicated his partner already was under the shower. Drumming his fingers on his knee, Jean eyed the laptop in question which was sitting on the coffee table, right in front of him. Touching someone’s laptop without their okay was a big no-go, in his opinion. Glaring at it, as if it were to blame for everything that was wrong in the world, Jean sat up straight. 

Nope, patience definitely was not his forte.  
It never had been. It never would be.

_Everything’s Apple with you: iPhone, iPad, iPod, i-whatever-laptop?! You’re such a hipster! Pfft, iHipster!_

Marco wasn’t, though. Not really. But Jean had a tendency to deflect when he was annoyed. His failure to grasp the concept of patience annoyed him greatly.

_Probably got a password anyway. Every sane person does. And if you don’t, you shouldn’t mind! Right? Plus, it’s not like I’m looking for your secret stash of granny porn or whatever. Though, in your case, it’d be more like lemonparty, if anything..._

Satisfied with his own reasoning, Jean, carefully, flipped the laptop open, absentmindedly admiring its slim design. Pressing the power button, he waited for it to boot. Damn, the thing was up fast! His own laptop was a decrepit slug lost in a salt desert compared to it. 

“One point for you, Steve-o,” Jean mumbled to himself. _No password, huh? You really must trust the world and all the assholes in it_.

Not that Jean would ever betray Marco’s trust. It was just that he himself had got a little paranoid, after an incident including his sister a few years back. Nadine, adorable, little _asshole_ that she was, of course, had informed both their parents of all the porn she’d found on her baby brother’s laptop which, by the way, she’d stolen from his room while he had been at Armin’s. Luckily, his parents always had been of the openminded sort. Hell, they even welcomed Marco in their home with open arms, no questions asked! Still, remembering how they had sat him down, to educate him on how too much porn could ruin the real deal for him? Awkward! At the time, Jean had been wishing for them to just ground him and be done with it.

Thinking of other particularly embarrassing moments in his life, usually set in motion by his lovely, loving parents and/or his darling boyfriend—such as when his father had demanded to speak to the man who had the guts to date his son without introducing himself first (“Hah! Welcome to my world, loser!” Nadine had said.)—Jean caught sight of the background picture on Marco’s laptop. Said picture brought any and all further thoughts to a screeching halt.

It was a black and white photo of a young, naked man. A model, from the looks of it. Around his neck, he wore a tight, black collar, to which a thick, heavy-looking iron chain was connected. Barbed wire was wrapped around his well-toned arms, digging into flawless and probably airbrushed skin. The lighting was done in a way that brought out his muscles perfectly, and the picture itself had been cropped shortly below his hipbones, and just above his lips. Even without seeing his whole face, there was no denying the guy’s levels of Hot. Those lips, damn! Perfect for sucking cock, Jean thought. Sensually swung, damp and half-open, like he was moaning or begging for whomever stood before him.

 _Knew you were a kinky son of a bitch!_

Licking his own lips, Jean stared at the man. Interestingly enough, it didn’t bother him that Marco used some random, hot piece of manmeat for a background picture, didn’t feel one spark of jealousy. This was worth mentioning because Jean considered himself to be an extremely jealous person. So far, the only real fights he’d ever had with Marco, or any of his exes for that matter, had been due to his massive, borderline pathological jealousy.

Letting his eyes travel down the model’s body, shortly stopping at his pierced nipples, Jean spotted a lone folder on the bottom right. “BiP”, it said. Without thinking twice, he clicked it. In it were several MP4-files whose titles left nothing much to one’s imagination, all of them starting with “Bound in Public”. 

Curiosity now definitely piqued, Jean opened Safari, and did a quick Google search, not quite daring to play one of the files instead. The results pretty much answered any remaining questions.

 _‘Innocent boys next door being bound, abused, and humiliated for all to see._  
Bound in Public _is the premiere site to see real male humiliation...’_

And, surprise!, following the top link, he ended up on a hardcore BDSM porn site.

“Holy fucking shit!” was all he got out, jaw literally dropping when he viewed its contents.

 _Forget kinky SOB, you’re the fucking King of Kink!_

Swallowing hard, he scrolled down. While his own mind was far from innocent, what he saw here had him blush profusely. There were dozens of preview videos, each of them with a title raunchier than the previous. Fingers hovering above the touch pad, he felt tempted to click the one called “Prison Gang Fuck”. 

“Jean, are you ready?”

Upon so suddenly hearing his boyfriend’s voice, Jean flinched away from the laptop, as if it had burnt him. 

“J-just checking my emails?!” He squeaked. Up until now, he hadn’t known he was capable of making such pathetic noises.

Marco leant against the doorframe, seemingly surprised at his outburst. And, damn, did he look hot, Jean thought, a weird, sizzling sensation trickling down his neck. Long-ass time in the bathroom well spent, oh yes!

Marco was wearing a charcoal dress shirt and black trousers, his hair immaculately parted on the left. He looked like a model, too, or the modern version of Dorian Gray, Jean mused. Nothing at all like some guy who’d be into hardcore BDSM. Then again, he had been fooled by Marco’s saint-like appearance before. He just had to remember their first date, and how gravely he had misjudged his character. Not that that had been a bad thing per se. Also, picturing himself in the place of the guy on Marco’s laptop, with Marco standing before him, dressed like that? Fuck, his jeans were growing tight just thinking about it!

Quirking a brow, Marco walked over to him, “Ah, the job hunt. Any news yet?”

Subconsciously realising the imminent danger of his snooping being uncovered, Jean made to reach for the laptop.  
Obviously intrigued by his odd behaviour, however, Marco got to it first. 

“Emails, mhm?” His face remained unmoving for the most part, save for a flicker of _something_ crossing his eyes. 

Whatever it was, Jean hoped to the gods of old and new that it wasn’t anger, born out of betrayal. Several seconds of complete silence passed between them, with Marco simply watching him. Shifting on the couch, Jean tried to hold his gaze, jeans definitely too tight now.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder if the universe had it out for him, if it had made it its personal goal to torture him and slowly but surely drive him insane. Now, he didn’t mean to sound overly dramatic—also, yes, he was very much aware he possessed a penchant for the dramatic when it suited him—but this time he really had got himself into trouble. Of this he was certain. 

All because of his impatience.

Okay, maybe trouble was too strong a word here, but fact was that his lack of patience appeared to be the common denominator of the majority of his problems.

He could’ve just waited for Marco to finish his shower. But no! He had to go and touch the damn hipster laptop without permission—MacBook! That was what it was called! Only now he remembered. For fuck’s sake, it was Friday! It was past six in the evening. No one was going to invite him for a job interview on a weekend.

Jean twiddled his fingers, “My phone died? Really, I—I only wanted to check my emails?” 

Why was he voicing his words like questions?  
Why was he repeating himself?  
Why was he acting like the time he had stolen five deutschmark from his mother, because he’d been craving gummi bears, despite already having finished a bag? 

Oh yeah, right there was another fine example of a truly embarrassing story from his past. About a then-four-year-old Jean, who had turned criminal, because of stupid gummi bears, which, by the way, he’d thrown up later. Not only had that led to his parents uncovering the theft, but also proven his mother right when she had warned him about getting sick if he were to eat any more candy. The resemblance of his past crimes to the here and now was uncanny.

“So you have told me.” Other than raising a brow again, Marco didn’t move. “But you didn’t do that, now, did you?”

Jean shook his head, slowly, eyes going wide as Marco gently set the laptop back down and before him. Face burning, he sat there, trapped by his boyfriend’s stare. The proverbial deer in the headlights. Damn, that look did things to him! Kicked off its very own S/M porn flick in his head, filled with erotic punishment befitting his misdeeds.

“Well, go on then, check your emails.” Marco hadn’t closed the website, Jean noted, blush intensifying. “But, please, hurry. I’m hungry.”

What? Was that it? Was he not going to comment on the fact that he, Jean, had just visited what could only be described as one of the kinkiest websites he’d ever come across, which, as it so happened, was also the place where he got his porn from?

_Goddamnit, why can’t you keep your spank hidden in a password-protected folder like every other dude?!_

With shaking fingers, he typed the URL of his email provider, trying his hardest to will down his arousal. Somehow, the thought of Marco figuring out he had a hard-on, from having discovered his deviant tastes no less, filled him with something akin to shame. Similar to getting caught while in the middle of rubbing one down. Yeah, that, too, had happened to him on a few occasions. Though, if he were to be completely honest, it was a bit of a turn-on, too. Marco finding out, that was. Not the getting caught jacking off part. 

For once, the universe seemed to be on his side, though. There, in his inbox, was an invitation for a job interview coming Wednesday.

“Well?”

Jean told Marco the good news, feeling strangely light-headed. Not really looking at his boyfriend, he stood and hurried to get his jacket then, thoughts a jumbled mess of filth and happiness.

He had to get his mind out of the gutter. At least for the time being.

 

On their way to the restaurant, Marco didn’t bring up the website once. Jean wondered if he was embarrassed. Should he bring it up then? Then again, Marco didn’t look too shaken, or uncomfortable. And, most importantly, he didn’t appear to be angry or disappointed. He was his usual, cheerful self. 

Maybe he should just let it rest. But Jean couldn’t deny he was curious, and also a little worried. What if Marco was growing bored with their sex life? It didn’t feel like it, but what if he was yearning for something more? Did he satisfy him at all?

“I really hope you’ll like this place. It’s one of my favourites,” Marco interrupted his rather glum musings while pulling into the parking lot. 

Jean nodded slowly, still not quite trusting himself to answer him using actual words. 

Upon entering the restaurant, he quickly found his worries replaced, though. A mix of most delicious scents hit his nose the second they stepped through the door, reminding him of how hungry he was. While a waitress led them to their table—the only one left empty, from what he could tell—he carefully took in his surroundings. Yep, definitely looked expensive. High walls, decorated with traditional Mongolian carvings and paintings greeted him, and there was a large aquarium built into a massive pillar in the centre, filled with exotic fish. To their far right, there was a buffet. His stomach growled in approval at the sight.

With hunger winning over for good, Jean managed to ignore the fact that the menu didn’t list any prices. Per Marco’s suggestion, he decided on a dish consisting of both duck and king prawns, a combination he wouldn’t have thought could possibly work. Also, Marco had not lied about the quality of the food. Quite the opposite; his words couldn’t have possibly done it justice. Jean failed to recall the last time he’d eaten something this good. Simply put, he was in heaven.

Up until he had met Marco, he hadn’t been very fond of Asian cuisine in general. Most of it was too spicy for him. Jean couldn’t handle spicy food very well, contrary to Marco who loved to eat so hot and spicy, you had to fear it might end up burning a hole in his stomach one day.  
When their dessert came, Jean thought he’d ascended from heaven to paradise, deciding he wouldn’t mind dining here till the end of days. Over the bottle of plum wine that had come with it—dangerously sweet in its taste which perfectly covered up that of the alcohol it contained—Jean soon felt comfortable enough to at least complain about his week, and his curriculum in particular. 

“I have four hours between classes on Thursday? Who the Big F does that!?” He muttered, though careful not to curse in a place as fine as this restaurant. “The damn department of chemical engineering, apparently!”

Marco chuckled softly, listened to him ramble on with the patience of a saint. He was the only one who never interrupted his ramblings, nor did he ever chide him for them. Jean noticed an all too familiar warmth filling his chest. 

It wasn’t from the wine, that much he could tell.

 

~

 

Back at Marco’s, Jean suggested movies. While his thoughts did circle back to the laptop incident, he still wasn’t sure how or even if to bring it up. He figured movies were good for stalling till he managed to make up his mind.

For a good ten minutes, they fought over what to watch. Marco declared _Battleship_ a waste of time, and that Jean should give _The Devil’s Backbone_ a try. Jean adamantly refused, informing him that he didn’t trust his choices in horror anymore; not since the _Hannibal_ dilemma. 

God, the _Hannibal_ dilemma! It made him wish something like brain bleach existed. Jean had made it no further than episode two, or, as he had dubbed it, The One That Forever Ruined Mushrooms For Him. They’d ordered pizza that evening, mushrooms included in the topping, and Jean had maybe eaten one slice. Unlike Marco who’d devoured his share without so much as blinking before going for Jean’s. What kind of person managed to eat while watching such a horrid, horrible show, without getting sick? 

“How about _Army of Darkness_?” Marco suggested. “It’s a classic, and it’s comedy.”

“You want comedy? How about _Crank_!”

“Jean, please...” 

Was he actually rolling his eyes at him? The bastard! Jean punched him in the shoulder.

“Come on, man!”

“No, you come on! You liked _Pan’s Labyrinth_! You will like _The Devil’s Backbone_ , too! They’ve got the same director, who, by the way, also worked on your oh so beloved _Hellboy_!” 

“Can it, Bodt! IMDB says it’s horror! Screw you and your horror movies! Also, _Pan’s Labyrinth_ was a fucking tear jerker!”

“You cannot deny it’s good!”

“I’m not denying shit, but I am most definitely refusing to bawl my eyes out tonight!”

A moment of glaring at one another in silence passed between them.

“Okay, what about _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_?” Jean then sighed, defeated. “It’s a classic, it’s got humour, and there’s even drug-induced horror trips, just for you.”

Luckily, that settled it. 

Marco got up to fetch the DVD while sending Jean to get snacks, and beer from the fridge. A minute later, he returned, carrying two chilled 0.5-litre-cans of Holsten Pils, and a bag of tortilla crisps between his teeth. The hot ones, of course. Marco’s favourite. The kind of which Jean was able to eat maybe two or three at a time, before feeling like a baby dragon ready to spit fire. Flopping down next to his boyfriend, he opened a can of beer. Marco already had dimmed the lights, and now was starting the movie.

 _Fear and Loathing_ was one of Jean’s alltime favourites, and he hadn’t watched it on a 90” flatscreen TV before. Needless to say, it was a whole new viewing experience. Getting comfortable, he soon was slouching on the armrest of the couch, one leg resting on Marco’s lap. For the time being, he even forgot about stupid laptops and kinky porn, a gentle onslaught of food coma rolling over him. This was nice, he thought, absentmindedly kneading Marco’s thigh with his toes. He could get used to this, he realised, wouldn’t mind ending every day like this. Next to his man, with a movie and a beer. It felt cosy. He felt cosy.

A sensation that wasn’t meant to last. Sometimes quite mischievous in nature—a trait most people would never even think to associate him with—Marco shifted on the couch, slowly moved his hand stroking Jean’s shin downward. At first, Jean didn’t think any of it. That was, until his left foot found itself under attack by merciless tickling.

“The hell, man?! Don’t do that! You know how ticklish I am! You wanna end up with your nose in your brain, or what!?” To make his point, Jean kicked at him. “Let go!”

“That’s a myth, you know.” Grinning, Marco set down his beer, but didn’t release his foot. “You cannot actually drive a person’s nasal bone into their brain.”

Jean crossed his arms, scowling. “Don’t you go all smartass on me, Bodt!”

Marco’s reply was a smirk while giving his foot another squeeze. So, Jean pounced him. In a matter of split seconds, the two of them were grappling with each other. The bag of crisps got sent flying, spilling crumbs all over the floor, and Marco nearly knocked over his beer while Jean almost fell to the ground, face first.

“That was real low, even for you!” Jean complained, struggling to get free. “Pervert!” He then added, teasingly.

By now, Marco had him pinned down with ease. He had the advantage of being taller, his build much stronger due to being a professional athlete. 

“And don’t you love me for it!”

Twisting underneath him, Jean attempted to hook his legs around him, for leverage, planning to flip their positions. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He growled, bucking up against him.

“Do I like it as much as you, though?” Marco rolled his hips tauntingly, causing his breath to hitch.

“Actually, I think, you like it even more!” A drawl, followed by a wink. “Considering your porn—“

In the background, Dr. Gonzo explained the nativity of limes to Raoul Duke—not the Mojave Desert—and Jean bit his lip. 

Crap! He hadn’t meant to say that. “Uhh, that came out wrong, man! I—I’m not judging, you know—“

“Oh?” Marco bent forward, their lips almost touching. 

“I’m not a prude— _ah_!“ 

Heat was gathering in his loins, and not just because of the way Marco had him trapped, now pressing their groins together. 

“Why, Jean, I never said you were.”

“I’ve done stuff, too!”

Marco tilted his head, studying him closely. Even with the lights dimmed, and the flickering from the TV in the background, it was not lost on him. Jean had seen that look before, whenever things got really wild between them. Not for the first time, he wondered if Marco had been holding back during those moments. It was highly likely, thuogh, wasn’t it, considering what he now knew of his preferences? What would he be like if he stopped holding back? Only one way to find out, wasn’t there?

“Okay, and how far have you gone?” Marco murmured against the corner of his mouth, hot breath dancing over soft skin. “What do you enjoy?” Each word he accentuated with another gyrating motion of his hips. 

Something inside of Jean jumped at those words, igniting a rather sudden and steep surge of lust. His ex had liked it rough, too. She loved to top from the bottom. Handcuffs and other makeshift bonds had been involved at some point, and spanking, too, as well as dirty talk an outsider might have called demeaning. From the way Marco was looking at him when he told him, Jean could tell that it was nothing but child’s play to the man. It only spurred on his waking desire.

“ _So, what do you wanna do to me, Bodt? Didn’t get to watch your porn. You kinda interrupted me, you know_ —” Saying this, he yanked him close by his shirt, wouldn’t wait for an answer, and claim his mouth in a forceful kiss instead.

Marco retaliated likewise, the kisses turning ravishing pretty fast, cutting both of them short of breath soon.

“No, the question is what do _you_ want to do.” Breaking away abruptly, lips damp and a little bruised from Jean’s lustful assault, Marco forced his chin up, made him look at him directly.

Oh.

They had been dating for a little over a year now, and one would think the crazy desire he felt for Marco would’ve abated by now, or at least calmed down somewhat, but no. The opposite was the case. It only grew stronger the more time they spent together. Marco merely had to look at him a certain way, and his insides would be on fire. And the way he was looking at him right now made napalm fire seem cold in comparison. 

Thoughts running amok, Jean needed a second to compose himself, before voicing the first clear one to emerge from the chaos that was his mind, “Let’s watch your porn!” 

“For inspiration, or for educational purposes? Or both?” Now kneeling between his legs, Marco ran his fingertips along his collarbone, his throat.

Already more than excited at the prospect, Jean blurted out his answer, “Both!”

“We should go for something a little less extreme than what you’ve looked up earlier, though.” That smirk! It went straight to his cock. _Goddamnit, Marco_! “You might get the wrong idea otherwise, or end up being put off altogether. Couldn’t have that, now could we?” With that, Marco let go of him, to get up and connect his laptop with the TV. 

Jean turned the words over in his head. Needless to say, his curiosity over “Prison Gang Fuck” and Co. only spiked. But Marco was the more experienced one here, so he decided to trust his judgement. Also, watching high definition porn on a 90” screen, well, that definitely was a new for him. Watching kinky high definition porn, with his boyfriend; the potential intro to their own kinky games? Fuck, the idea alone was making his dick pulse. 

“So, what's your flavour? Something plain bondage and toys, or more along the lines of rough play, such as dominance and submission, maybe?”

“Uhm, the latter?”

“This one’s rather tame,” Marco opened a file, stashed away in an unnamed folder. “Pay attention to the interview. I’ll be right back.”

Interview? Porn with interviews? The hell? Brows drawn together, Jean turned to the TV. Two men appeared on the screen, one blond, one dark-haired, definitely handsome, and with bodies to die for, of course. Blondie looked to be in his thirties, whereas the other appeared to be around Jean’s age. Maybe a little older; it was hard to say. Perhaps it was his height. He wasn’t very tall. The elder of the two, obviously the dom, judging by his body language and questions, began to inquire about preferences, and something about limits and hard limits. The younger man, positively excited—almost like a kid in a candy store, however wrong a comparison that was!—answered readily, and went on to talk about favourite experiences as well as secret fantasies. 

When Jean thought back on all the porn he had watched so far, he realised it had been filled with nothing but bullshit clichés. Pizza delivery guy coming to hot, young girl’s place. Strangely fit plumber in his twenties and sexy MILF who couldn’t be much older herself. Student and professor. Cheesy lines. Cheesy music. Standard oral. Average humping in varied positions. Generic facials. While he had always been aware of how dumb those set-ups were and also never truly cared for more—he usually skipped the intro anyway—it hadn’t ever been this glaringly obvious before. Good porn was hard to find. However, this right here felt real. Authentic.

Now the dom was going over safewords, in case the sub needed to stop the scene. The scene itself would be fantasy play, about a young low-level gangster turned snitch, and a corrupt cop. Per the fantasy, no would not mean no. An actual no would be the safeword. Jean had never even thought about such things before. It made him realise how inexperienced he was. Knowing that Marco wasn’t made him feel like a virgin all over again. A whole new level of turn-on; one he’d never considered before either. By the time the interview finished, Marco returned, carrying an inconspicuous looking wooden box with him.

“That was the, uhm, educational part, I guess?” Jean mumbled into his beer, taking a huge gulp. His stomach felt as if a flock of freaking _pterodactyls_ was on an uproar in there.

“Rules are of the utmost importance, Jean.” Putting the box on the coffee table, Marco sat down next to him. “I will ask you about them later, to make sure you understood.”

“What’s that?” Jean asked, pointing at the box. It wasn’t very big, but it did have a lock on it.

“Nevermind.” Marco gave him a small smile. “Watch.”

Jean did, holding on to the beer can. Any last doubts about cheesy set-ups went out of the window, once the two men began their play. For porn actors, their actual acting was surprisingly convincing. No corny one-liners, no overacting. And, honestly, the storyline itself, if one wanted to call it that, could’ve been from one of the many crime shows Jean enjoyed from time to time: young criminal informant fails to deliver useful news to some crooked cop who promised to look the other way, pertaining to whatever minor crime said young criminal had committed. The fact that the movie had been shot in an old, abandoned warehouse further added to its authenticity factor. 

Didn’t take too long for the real action to start, though, and yet it was absolutely different from any porn Jean had seen so far. Here, the focus did not lie on getting rid of clothes in a matter of seconds, only to go straight to blowjobs et cetera. It was definitely about making the audience feel rather than just watch. 

Finishing his beer, Jean followed the fierce struggle between the two men, until the small one finally ended up in zip ties and bent over a dusty, old desk. Shirt torn and hanging loosely from his shoulders, baring a multitude of intricate tattoos, he was informed that he had to pay for his failure in one of two ways. Either he would _sway the cop’s mind_ , so to speak, and make him forget about the disappointment he’d turned out to be, or his fellow gang members would learn of him having turned rat, in order save his sorry hide. Boy sounded incredibly hot, too, whimpering softly beneath the dom who had his neck in a vicelike grip, and was feeling him up with clear intentions. None of the moans seemed faked, and they worked on Jean as intended.

Nervousness rose in him, but not the unpleasant kind. His already half-hard cock responded fairly quickly to the visual and psychological stimulation. After all, Jean had always had an overly fertile imagination. And imagining himself and Marco taking things a step further, being at his mercy, with no way of escape— _fuck_! There were no words to accurately describe what that did to him.

“Are you okay with this so far?” Marco asked in a gentle voice, and Jean flinched a little when he felt an arm go around his shoulders.

He’d been so captivated by the movie—the sub had just got pushed to the floor, and now had to show his gratitude for getting a second chance by working his way up from the bottom, with his tongue—he’d almost forgotten about Marco being right next to him.

“S-sure, yeah.” Leaning into the embrace, Jean bit his lip. “Just never—uhh—really thought about this before?”

It had been ages since porn had last turned him on this much, and, so far, the two men hadn’t done anything overly sexual. Neither of them was even naked yet.  
A soft hiss escaped him when Marco began to nibble at his neck, fingers digging into his shoulder possessively.

“You know, I—I like it when you, well, when you get rough?” Jean half-stammered.

There was no denying that he did. Sure, he loved to fuck Marco, too, and he loved to fuck him _hard_ , but there just was something about giving up control. He couldn’t quite describe it. Perhaps, it was cliché, but Jean was one of those people who had a hard time relaxing. Too high-strung. Letting Marco have his way with him? Far better than working out or getting shitfaced on the weekends.

“ _Oh, I know you do_.” Fingers brushed his lips, were gone before he could catch them. “You do have an affinity for bottoming.” 

It would have been the understatement of the year to say he didn’t _love_ when his boyfriend’s dominant side showed. Jean only had to remember their first time, where Marco suddenly took over control. He had ended up fucking him so hard he could still feel it days later. It had been exhilarating.

“Still wanna know what you’d like to do to me,” he breathed, reaching for his boyfriend’s thigh.

“ _Do you really_?”

Shit, how did he manage to sound so fucking hot?

“Yes—“

Marco put his hand on Jean’s touching him, grabbing it tightly. Bad Boy and Cop had taken things a little farther, too, or rather, Cop had seen to it to put Bad Boy’s mouth to better use. And that meant shoving his fingers deep inside it, making him gag on them while yanking his head back. 

Jean felt his hand being guided between his legs. “Then show me how much you’re enjoying yourself right now,” Marco murmured, dragging his tongue along the outlines of his ear, before biting down on it. “And do not stop watching.”

Another groan escaped him when he felt teeth mark his flesh, but he only leant in closer. It was such a simple request, and yet it made his cock strain even more against its confinements. Hand trembling lightly, still in his lover’s firm grasp, Jean began to fulfil his request, lightly rubbing himself through the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Do you trust me, Jean?” Marco asked, and slid behind him, trapping him between his thighs.

He answered him with a nod. Yes, he did. He trusted him. He’d never trusted anyone as much as he did Marco.  
Bad Boy now was rutting against Cop’s leg, greedily sucking on his fingers and urging closer to his groin. It earned him a resounding slap in the face, before he got kicked back. Unable to catch his fall, he lay there, helpless, could do nothing about the boot pushing down on his clothed arousal.  
No, such ideas had never entered Jean’s mind before, but he be damned, they got his blood pumping. Marco’s fingers went to play with his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp, before pulling his head back, almost copying the moves of the dom on screen.

“Don’t hold back, Jean.”

Funny, wasn’t that what he had wanted to tell Marco for a while now? Letting out a shaky moan, Jean worked on the zipper and slipped his hand inside his trousers. Palming himself through his boxers, he rested against Marco’s broad chest. Warm and strong against his back, it reassured him, made him feel safe. His own chest rose and fell more quickly the harder he stroked himself.

“You got a thing for watching, don’t you, Bodt?” He said in a voice slightly lighter than normal. _And I, apparently, got a thing for letting you. Damn!_

“No talking.”

Marco’s voice, on the other hand, sounded much darker, foreign yet still familiar in its own way. Upon hearing it, Jean’s stomach coiled in anticipation.

“Why don’t you make me?” 

A low chuckle from behind reverberated through him, and Marco cupped his jaw, forcing his head back once more. The idea of being ordered around, and getting off on it; yet another thought he’d not entertained before. Pleased to feel his boyfriend’s arousal pressing against his ass, and hearing him suck in a breath, too, Jean rolled his hips.

“Do you remember the rules?”

Jean nodded, eyes glued to the screen. Bad Boy, too, was getting what he had been desiring, the dom sitting on his chest now, knees to either side of his face, and then pulling up his head to shove his massive cock past his glistening lips. He went balls deep impressively fast, and none too gently, too.

“Tell me.”

Groaning, Jean did. Red for “Stop”. Yellow for “Can’t take any more than that”. Three consecutive hums, in case he was unable to speak.

“Good. I trust you will adhere to them, too. I need to trust that you will.”

Jean nodded once more, grunting lightly. God, he loved the way Marco was talking to him. All commanding, completely in charge. More moans spilt from his lips, head lolling back and on Marco’s shoulder.

 

“Now, do as you were told.” 

Head spinning, he pulled out his hard member, teasing the head with his thumb and thrusting into his palm. “Ah—but what if I mess up your couch, _babe_?” He whispered, grin clearly audible.

“You will do no such thing.”

“ _Gonna punish me if I do_?”

The hold on his neck tightened, setting off more sparks of heat in his loins.

“Not in a way you would expect me to,” Marco told him, nonchalant, though it was obvious he more than liked where Jean was taking this. 

In the time he’d known him, he learnt to gauge Marco’s emotions, despite how hard to read he had been for him in the beginning, with that damn, perpetually smiling pokerface of his. That soft shudder going through him just now, when his order had been defied. The way his fingers clawed into his skin, playfully threatening. It told Jean all he needed to know, and he decided to act more bold, be even more defiant. Reaching behind himself, he attempted to pull Marco closer. Marco, however, had anticipated as much, catching his brazen hand, and twisting his arm on his back while simultaneously shoving him forward by his head.

“Fuck, Marco!” Gasping at the slight discomfort, the fingers around his cock went still. “You’re evil!”

“Keep this up, and you will not be speaking until after I am finished with you,” Marco spoke in a hushed voice, amusement lacing his words. 

Bad Boy was getting it from behind now, with the cop’s baton which he’d been made to suck on prior to this scene. On all fours, sobbing and begging to be released, he fucked himself on the weapon, face pressed down on the dirty floor.

“Stop.” The hand now closing around the back of his neck only emphasised the order. “Get the box.”

An almost whine left him, but he complied. When he wanted to sit back down on the couch, Marco denied him and pointed at the floor.

“Kneel.”

Jean swallowed hard when their eyes met. Never before had he seen such hunger in Marco’s gaze. Trembling lightly, he knelt, though not without turning his head again, albeit done more out of reflex than intent to disobey.

“ _Eyes to the front._ ” Fingers entwined with his hair once more, forced him to follow the command before he had the chance to do so himself. 

This time, Marco did not lessen his hold, and Jean could feel his hot breath on his neck. “Continue.”

While he resumed to fist his cock, watching how Bad Boy now had a belt around his neck, for limiting his movements even further, Marco began to sort through the box. Curiosity made him want to look, but Jean couldn’t, not with his head kept firmly in place. His own moans were coming more frequently, pace of his hand around his dick speeding up. When Marco pulled him back towards him, arm strong around his chest and putting his whole body in a strain, Jean still did not stop, hand moving rapidly now. 

“Do you trust me?” Marco asked again, deep voice muffled against his ear, barely reaching him through the haze of his lust. “ _Say it_!” He added with a growl.

“Yes, I do!” Panting heavily, Jean twisted in his embrace, knees starting to hurt from the hard, unyielding floortiles. “I trust you!” He groaned as the arm around him tightened some more.

Marco then forced his head around as far as he could without truly hurting him, and kissed him hard. Teeth scraped over lips, brought forth louder moans. Jean readily opened his mouth, instantly felt the man’s hot tongue dive inside and connect with his own. He barely noticed when something slick and circular was placed around the head of his cock, before being pushed down to its base where it seemingly pulled taut. Another shiver wracked his body, and sweat began to form on his temples. Marco did not release his mouth, kept his claim, hot and deep, unrelenting. Jean swore he could feel his cock swell even more, now adorned with a thick metal ring. 

“I want you loose and ready by the time that little slut has a dick up his ass,” Marco broke away at last, and handed him a bottle of lube, leaving him to gasp for air, lips swollen and moist.

Eyes going wide, Jean stared ahead. Dirty talk always had been a massive turn-on for him, but this was something else. Much more powerful, for he had never heard his boyfriend talk in such a manner before. Neither as sternly, nor as filthily. Marco rarely swore as it was.  
Shimmying out of his jeans and boxers, he hunched forward. 

“Leave that on,” Marco said, matter-of-factly, when he wanted to take off his shirt next. “Spread your legs.”

With shaking hands, Jean uncapped the bottle, supporting himself on the coffee table with one elbow and trying to ignore the few crumbs of crisps digging into his knees. Knowing Marco’s voyeuristic tendencies, he began to slowly and teasingly rub his moist fingers between his buttocks, slicking up his crack good before inserting his middle finger in his tight hole.  
Grunting at the cold sensation of the thick liquid, as well as the feeling of his ass stretching around his finger, he moved his eyes back to the TV. Watching Bad Boy, on his knees again, getting his face fucked hard, excess spit trickling down his chin and onto the floor, caused a little twitch in his cock. The guy still had half the baton up his ass, too. In the back of his mind, Jean couldn’t help but admire his deepthroat skills. Gag reflex be damned, he had yet to manage more than half of Marco’s cock.

Behind him, Marco gave an appreciative hum, and he wondered if he, too, had started touching himself. Rotating his hips invitingly, Jean pushed down on his fingers, locating his prostate and moaning through clenched teeth. If it weren’t for the ring around his cock, which cleverly prevented a premature finale—for now, at least—Jean knew he would’ve lost it fairly soon.

“Mhm, need you, Marco—”

His answer was a chuckle, but otherwise Marco remained quiet. Jean dared another glance, wondering and also anticipating what further disobedience would get him.

“ _I believe I’ve told you to keep your eyes to the front, Jean_.” Dark eyes rested on him. Burning with desire, they took in every single move of his, watched him closely as he fucked himself on his fingers.

Jean didn’t avert his gaze, mesmerised by the way Marco looked, illuminated by the TV’s lights, looming above him. Still fully dressed in those fine clothes. Imposing. Only his hair was slightly ruffled from their earlier wrestling. And he had sounded so _jovial_ just now. He must want him to misbehave indeed. The idea sent another jolt of lust rushing down south.

“And to be quiet.”

Bending forward, Marco ran his knuckles along his cheekbone. Jean opened his mouth to object, but was cut off by his lover’s other hand suddenly impacting on his backside. Fuck! That hurt! It also caused his fingers to push against his prostate, hard, making him cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Jerking harshly, he kept glancing at Marco, as if to challenge him whose fingernails were leaving white crescents on the buttock now marked a darker shade of pink.

“I do have to make you, don’t I.” 

It wasn’t a question, and it made his heart skip a beat, but the expected slap did not come. Instead, Marco grabbed him by his shirt, and pushed him forward, pushed his face on the cold, cold glass of the tabletop. 

“Then again, you do like it rough. You have said so yourself.”

He was about to comment on that, but Marco went to cover his mouth with his palm.

“Behave, or you will be gagged.”

Smirking, Jean went on to give his hand a lick, slowly lapping at it and swirling his tongue in lazy circles.

“Do you think such behaviour will get you what you want sooner?”

All the while, Jean kept fucking himself on his fingers, if having slowed down somewhat. Part of him craved that fire on his backside again. It had hurt, yes, but in a good way, one that had set his nerves ablaze. There still were remnants of its tingling sensation on his buttock, getting fainter by the second. 

As much of a surprise that slap had been, he knew his boyfriend would never truly hurt him.

 _Yes, make me. Show me who you really are!_

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

His beg fell on deaf ears, mouth getting filled by Marco’s fingers. Sucking on them as if they were his cock, Jean tried to move back, to reach him and urge him on, but a soft, buzzing noise stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ve noticed that about you, you know? Always rushing things. Perhaps, you ought to be taught a lesson in patience, hm?”

Gentle vibrations to the head of his cock, its base, triggered a keening noise deep in his throat, his whole body tensing up when Marco turned the speed setting of the vibrator to its next level. 

“Makes me wonder how pretty you sound when you beg _for real_.”

Jean could feel his muscles convulse, pressure in his balls rising. His cries and moans muffled by fingers stealing not only words but also his breath, he could not think clearly any longer, ecstasy lighting up every fibre in his body. So close. So fucking close!  
Violent shudders took ahold of his body as he tried to find a more comfortable position. But just before he could’ve fallen over the proverbial edge, Marco withdrew the toy, and instead brought down his hand on his ass again. He made sure to hit a different spot this time, too, and harder. 

Jean thought he was about to burst, never having experienced such an immense need for release. Trembling at the ironically soft kisses raining down on his neck, and Marco tenderly caressing his abused behind, he closed his eyes, tried to calm his erratic breathing.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how badly do you need it, Jean?” The way he spoke, voice warm and sweet, kind, had a calming effect on him despite also making him crave release ever more. 

Marco let his hands glide down his sides. Steadying him not just physically, they reinforced the feeling of safety as well.

“S-six?” He stammered, the fingers lodged inside of him currently unmoving. He had to stop for a second, or the ring wouldn’t have been able to contain him any longer. His bottom still was pulsing and tingling, too, and there now was precome leaking from the tip of his cock. The need was too strong, but he didn’t want it to stop. Not yet. He wanted to see where Marco would take this, wanted him to stop holding back.

“Six?”

“O-or a f-five, maybe?”

“Let’s get you to a ten then.” Marco kissed the juncture of his neck and shoulder, before retrieving another toy from the box. “Hands on the table.”

His moves were sluggish, but Jean did as told, smearing lube on the glassy surface of the table. Eyes fluttering shut, he grunted softly when something a little bigger than a finger prodded at the tight rim of his hole. The grunt quickly evolved into a loud groan when the toy was moved in deeper, and Jean did cry out once Marco turned it on, causing it to massage his prostate with low but strong vibrations. 

“Come here,” Marco breathed against a shoulder blade, pulling his shivering form on his lap. “ _Relax_.”

Teeth dyed his skin purple, through the fabric of his shirt, and his legs were spread by Marco’s, who went on to slowly push the vibrator, which was a little thicker than the first one, in and out of him. Intense and deep, slow yet powerful, it turned his muscles to jelly, sucked him dry of any strength left. Again, his hand was guided to his cock, a non-verbal order to resume his earlier deeds. _Seven_. Steadying himself with his free hand on Marco’s hip, Jean barely took note of how Bad Boy was getting fucked against the wall now, face first. Though his lustful screams did reach him on a basic, primal level, feeding his need to be claimed in similar ways. But Marco stuck to his tantalising rhythm, barely giving him enough. Strong arms held him in place, fingers reaching for his hair again, only to put his neck back in a strain. Regardless of how desperate he was in his search of more friction, Marco refused to give it to him. His moans soon turned into full-blown whining, and he was clenching forcefully around the vibrator torturing him oh so good.

“Keep it in,” was the command, and Marco moved his hand under Jean’s shirt, raking his nails across his chest. Burning streaks of red blossomed where they left their mark, eliciting more of those sweet, sweet moans when he drew them over a nipple.

“Give me a number, Jean.”

“Eight—“ He couldn’t take much more of this, he knew he couldn’t. Every part of his body was on fire, muscles pulling taut in irregular intervals. “ _Fuck_!”

A metallic click, followed by the soft sounds of leather on fabric, indicated Marco was undoing his belt. It slithered across Jean’s chest, before it was placed around his neck, turned into a leash. The notion made him swallow, sweat pearling on his forehead. How was it possible for something like this to turn him on so much? Had someone told him he’d get off on such a thing, even a month ago, he would have declared that person insane. Yet here he was, cock dripping, his whole body flushed, craving not only to be dominated but forced to submit. 

Marco’s hand, the one not holding the belt, scoured over him, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head and down his back, locking his arms by twisting it in his grasp. With effort, Jean could’ve freed himself, but he didn’t want to, his concentration focused on the toy inside of him anyway, clamping down on it, so it wouldn’t slip out, and to get more. _Nine_.

As if he had anticipated as much, Marco switched it to its next setting, making him fucking _whimper_ with want. “Don’t stop now.” 

 

“Marco, please—!” Jean’s hand around his arousal had slowed down again, the stimulation to his insides almost too much to bear.

His answer came in the form of the belt tightening around his throat and a painful, stinging smack to his thigh, turning his whimpers into a weak, desperate blend of a rasp and a sob.

“Quiet!” The command was followed by the vibrator’s setting turned to maximum.

Bad Boy had been wrestled to the ground, lying on his side and being manhandled into position, till the dom came to lie on top of him. Yanking his head back, and using his right leg placed over his shoulder as leverage, he fucked him so hard, the sub’s screams turned into broken cries.

“ _Ten_ —“ The word was barely audible, more of a moan instead.

“What was that?” Marco drawled against his neck, teeth nibbling at sinews covered by burning skin.

“I c-can’t—!” Too much. He needed to be freed from this. He was too close, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t take it anymore. “—please!” 

“If you want me to stop,” those words, their tone, they reminded of a soft summer breeze, “You know what you have to say.”

“No! No, d-don’t stop! Just—just let me—come!” 

Small, open-mouthed kisses to his naked shoulder made him shake. Everything was too much by now, even such an innocent caress. “And how would you like me to do that?”

Digging his fingers into Marco’s thigh, Jean couldn’t keep himself from slumping against his chest. “Fuck me— _please_!” Squirming on his lap, he pushed back, uncontrollably rubbing up against his boyfriend’s hard cock. 

Once he had uttered those words, he found himself flat on the couch, face pressed into cold leather. The toy had slipped out, his body shivering at the sudden empty feeling. The belt around his neck disappeared as well, only to be looped around his wrists and pulled through the shirt, effectively securing his arms for good.

“And how do you want me to fuck you, Jean?”

Marco was doing this on purpose, stringing him along to drive him crazy. At any other time Jean would’ve cursed him for it. He did perk up at the sound of him pulling down his zipper, more than ready for what was to come. His own fingers as well as the vibrator had prepared him well enough.

“Shit, Marco! _Just do it_!”

“Manners, Jean.”

“ _Please, just fuck me raw_!”

Marco answered him by claiming his body in one go. Already that first thrust sent him reeling, soft leather of the couch warming up to his skin, lightly chafing at his chest, his hardened nipples, and his cock which left a slick, creamy streak on the surface below. His whole body went into overdrive at his boyfriend’s harsh if drawn out rhythm. Pulling him up by his hip, for bettering his angle, Marco gripped his neck tighter than before, almost bruisingly so, and further restraining him.

Breathless, Jean begged for more still, knowing it wouldn’t take long now. Following his pleas, Marco stopped holding back at last. Raw and brutal. Ravaging. Heavy on him, with his arms around him, possessive in their nature, he fucked him hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. A mix of wet sounds, skin slapping against skin, and the creaking of leather, paired with both their heavy moans filled the room. Marco didn’t even need to touch his dick for him to finally lose it, a silent scream breaking free when it happened. Slamming into him a few more times before filling him up with his release, hot and slick, Marco, too, came hard. Feeling his come coat his insides made Jean shiver, eyes fluttering shut. There was no room for thoughts left in his head any longer, reduced to an animalistic state of being, and him breathing raggedly underneath Marco.  
For a moment, they remained like that, Marco’s breath coming just as quickly and uncontrolled as his own.

Swallowing hard, Jean hissed when his arms were being freed and the cockring removed. One damp kiss was placed to his cheek, a thank you whispered against it, and Marco went on to soothingly caress his sweat-soaked skin. Smiling weakly, he slowly came down from his orgasmic high, knowing he would be quite sore in the morning. Not that he cared. It would all be more than worth it.

“ _Messed up your couch after all_ ,” he mumbled into the leather, rewarded with the feel of Marco’s chuckle against his back.

“Maybe we should relocate?” He sounded as exhausted as Jean felt.

“Don’t you fucking dare move, Bodt—”

Marco squeezed his shoulders. “Like it messy, mhm?”

“Fuck, you know I do!”

Neither of them moved for another five minutes or so. But once Marco slipped out of him Jean instantly turned around, and wrapped his arms around him, refusing to let him leave. He ignored the damp sensation against his back, enjoyed the feeling of come trickling out of him. Sticky. Filthy. His brains fucked out, so to speak.

“I feel like being all sappy and using the L word right now,” he murmured against Marco’s throat, lapping at tender skin and tasting its saltiness.

“Oh?”

Three words, and he’d not used them before, even after Marco had done so. At least not out loud. They were met with a deep, sensual kiss, slow and loving.

“Also, those dudes from that flick? They kinda remind me of your creepy coach and his fuckbuddy, or whatever that titanic blond beast is to him!” Jean said after a while, drowsy still. Cosy.

“Oh my God, Jean!” Marco snorted at that, lightly smacking his shoulder. "You're impossible!"

Cosy mood still intact.

“What?! It’s true!”

“Of all the things you could’ve commented on, this is what you go with?”

“Random observation, man!”

“Yeah, you can be _very_ random sometimes!”

“And you’re not denying anything!” Jean pulled him in for another kiss, didn’t wait for an answer.

Even though they had only met a little over a year ago, he knew he wanted to spent the rest of his life with the man next to him.

“Oh, and by the way,” Jean then said, “Lessons in patience? I’m a slow learner. Gotta need a few more of those, I think.”

Marco hugged him tightly, kissing his forehead affectionately, “That can be arranged.”

 

Indeed, he wouldn’t mind ending all his days in a manner similar to tonight. With a smile, Jean closed his eyes, soon dozing off.


End file.
